


Bickering Like Boys and Birds

by TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cats, Cute, Danger, Dogs, Friendship, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan/pseuds/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan
Summary: I ORIGINALLY POSTED THIS IN 2016.Patrick is a grumpy housecat who likes his comfy life with Brendon. Pete is the puppy who invades on their home and pisses Patrick off. Of course, Pete manages to win the stubborn cat over, although it'll take a heck of an adventure to bring Patrick around.From OTPPROMPTS.TUMBLR: Person A is a cat and person B is a dog. Write your OTP as pets forced to share the same human.Patrick's cozy feline world gets turned on its pointed, fuzzy little ear when his hoomin, Brendon, gets a rambunctious new puppy named Pete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earlgreytea68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/gifts).



Patrick stretched lazily on his carpeted window perch. He warmed his gingerbread fur in the sunlight, occasionally kneading and pulling the carpet fibers beneath his paws. He curled into a fat little golden ball, purring happily, and thinking about the half-can of tuna still mixed in with his crunchies from this morning, when the door opened, and his human, Brendon, came in, whistling a jaunty tune and carrying a few bags. The cat gave an ear twitch and a lift of his head, his typical acknowledgment of Brendon's presence. This was usually satisfactory enough to keep the food flowing, the litterbox clean, and even get the occasional head-scratching. Usually more, whether Patrick was particularly interested or not.

“There's my boy,” the human cooed, and Patrick prepared for an onslaught of petting. Instead, Brendon gave one absent stroke down his back and over his tail, and then was off to the kitchen.

Normally, this would content Patrick—a gentle brush of attention, then blessed solitude—but something felt different. Maybe it was the way Brendon smelled. He was excited, and there was a trace of fur on him.

 _Another animal?_ Patrick thought, perturbed. _He must have just been petting one that he saw. He does that sometimes, because he's kind, but he's still my human._

As if to prove this, he started circling Brendon's ankles while he worked putting things away, purring loudly. Brendon jumped and dropped the box he was holding, and Patrick had to leap back, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He snuffled and shook his head at being startled so rudely, and Brendon scrambled to pick up the box and stuff it in the cabinet.

“Patrick!” he chided with a laugh. “Can't you wait until I'm not actively doing something else before trying to kill me?” He bent down and patted the cat's head, then went back to his chores.

Patrick suddenly decided that the tuna and crunchies were his priority right now, rather than trying to remind the human whom he belonged to. As he ate (loudly), he watched his human putting his supplies away. There was something off about his smile, something strange about the the way he moved around the room. He was definitely excited, more than he would usually be, and all the packages looked different and unfamiliar. Patrick didn't see the usual containers of his soft and crunchy food, didn't see the usual giant bag of litter crystals. And it looked like Brendon was moving faster than usual, trying to put everything away out of Patrick's reach, and quickly.

 _He doesn't know I can get into every single cabinet in this house the minute he's asleep,_ the cat thought smugly.

Brendon turned and stared at the cat now, almost as if he knew what he was thinking. He went over to Patrick and scooped him up in his arms. They went and sat on the couch while Brendon turned on the TV and put his feet up on the coffee table.

 _Sure, he can put his feet on the table, but I can't climb the counters,_ Patrick thought, and put his head down on his paws so Brendon could pet him properly. As his human started singing their favorite song, Patrick started purring along with it, meowing whenever Brendon would tap the top of his paw.

 _“Black and orange stray cat sitting on a fence (meow)_  
_Ain't got enough dough to pay the rent (meow)_  
_I'm flat broke, but I don't care (meow)_  
_I strut right by with my tail in the air (meow)”_

The human laughed, gently scrubbing his fingertips under Patrick's chin, and the cat lifted his head and closed his eyes, purring loudly at the feel, and the attention.

“You're my good buddy,” Brendon cooed. Just then, there was a buzzing, and he grabbed his communication device, then hastily put Patrick side and said, “Oooh, gotta go. Duty calls,” he said and waggled his eyebrows at the cat. That meant his mate was coming home with him tonight, and Patrick would be free to explore the kitchen.

 _Maybe this won't be such a bad night after all My human will be occupied and I can snoop in the cabinets._ He flicked his tail as he pondered the night's mischief ahead. _I'd better rest up._

Sure enough, later that night, Brendon came staggering home with his mate, a female named Sarah, and they tumbled up the stairs amid giggles and strange smells that Patrick couldn't really identify, but he had learned it meant they had even less coordination and volume control than usual.

As soon as he heard the door to the bedroom slam shut, the cat made his way into the kitchen and effortlessly leapt up to the countertop and up on top of the refrigerator. He swatted his paw at the cabinet door handle a couple of times, tenuously tipping his balance forward little by little to extend his reach. At last, he made purchase and the door flung open to reveal numerous boxes and cans. Patrick perused all of it, some of it he recognized as his, but a few were new and unfamiliar... with a photo of a dog on the front?

He tilted his head, curious, as he fought the fear rising in his belly. _He must have made friends with one of the neighborhood mutts, or a friend has a dog, or something. Brendon is **my** human, and he would never. **Ever.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick was just settling on his window perch for his morning nap when he heard Brendon and Sarah come down the stairs. He was rubbing his eyes and still in his pajamas, but she was dressed and pulling her hair into a ponytail. Patrick eyed them warily while she kissed his cheek and said she'd text him later, and he mumbled something and gave a sleepy half-grin before she went out the door and he stumbled to the kitchen.  
  
The cat desperately wished he could speak, could interrogate his human as to why he is suddenly buying dog treats, why he smells like foreign fur and excitement that is not over him and his kitty fabulousness.

 _It's rude, is what it is,_ Patrick thought, indignant. _I'm his owner. I've been his best friend and companion for years. I've been more than tolerant of his human mate, but this is unacceptable. How dare he find joy with another animal?_

He followed Brendon into the kitchen, trying to return to his rationalization from the night before. _It's just a dog he knows from somewhere else. A dog is not coming here. Is not, is not, **is not**._

He froze in his tracks when he spotted Brendon standing in front of the open cabinet. _Drat, I forgot to close that,_ he scolded himself. Brendon took out the cat food with a heavy sigh, and closed the cabinet. “You know, Patrick, I like to think I'm good to you. I give you tuna, I gave you that sweet-ass carpeted window perch, and I always make sure your litterbox is clean. All I have ever asked is that you not climb the kitchen surfaces. And why?” he asked, slamming the cabinet and turning to face his pet. “Because you literally walk in your own piss and shit, and I don't want animal feces germs on the place where I make what could possibly pass as 'food',” he griped. He poured some crunchies in the cat's bowl and put the box back in the cabinet, then went under the kitchen sink for disinfecting wipes. “I'm gonna have to have a door installed so you can't get in here at night,” he huffed as he wiped down the counter.

Patrick, for his part, felt... guilty? _Nah, couldn't be. I had every right to inspect new things coming into my home. And it is my home, too. Brendon chose me as his owner, and now I live here, too._ Still, Brendon looked so sad. So... disappointed. _Maybe he does want a dog, instead._ Patrick ate a few bites of breakfast, then went to lie on his perch and convince himself he most definitely did not feel bad about what he'd done. _I did nothing so wrong he can't forgive me._

He heard his human sit at the kitchen table and begin eating something while the coffee pot made its distinctive grumbling noises. Finally, Patrick caved with a heavy sigh. He leapt off his perch and went into the kitchen, seating himself next to Brendon's left leg. He meowed quietly and rubbed his head against his calf. He was relieved more than he liked to admit when a gentle hand came down on his head. He purred and leaned into the feeling, both the physical touch and knowing he was forgiven.

“I'm sorry, Patrick old buddy,” Brendon said forlornly. “I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you're a cat and you can't help being curious. But I am gonna figure out a way to keep you out of here at night. Deal?” He looked down at Patrick, big brown eyes meeting feline green. Patrick nuzzled his head more against the hand petting him, purring louder to indicate he agreed. At least, he hoped Brendon would catch that. “That's my boy.”

Feeling that things were right in the world again, Patrick finished his crunchies and went back to his window perch to nap in the sun. When he awoke, the house was empty and quiet. The sun was warm, and he sent a ripple through his ginger fur as he lazed about. He gave a contented sigh, and was not even the least bit perturbed when Brendon came staggering through the front door, carrying something heavy, and accidentally slammed the door behind him.

Until he heard the whimpering. And little yips.

_No. No no no no no..._

Brendon set the large plastic crate down, eliciting more little noises from inside it that raised Patrick's beautiful butterscotch hackles. Then, he really heard the creature inside.

_Where am I? Is this a fun place? Is this my new home? Is there food? I'm hungry. I have to pee. I might not be able to wait. I kinda wanna chew something. What's that sound? Will I have friends here?_

The intruder started barking in a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

_Great. Just great. A dog._

_Hi! Who's there? Are you my new friend?_  he now asked. _I'm so excited to meet you! I hope you love me as much as I'm gonna love you!_

Patrick suddenly wished for the muscles required to roll his eyes, as he'd seen his human do so many times.

 _Not just my human anymore,_ he thought sourly.

It was then Brendon came back with a soft, round mat that he lay next to Patrick's perch, and another set of food and water bowls.

_What? Where the blazes has he been hiding all this stuff!?_

_Oooh, is this a surprise? Am I a surprise? A surprise and a new friend for you? This is so awesome! I love you!_

_Relax, kid. You don't even know me yet._

_So? Brendon loves you, and I love Brendon, so it makes sense that we're gonna love each other and we can all be best buds!_

Then, Brendon opened the big container, and a mostly-white puppy with black spots and short, flopping ears came bounding out. He slid on the hardwood floor and bumped his butt into the wall, then stood up and shook it off with a little whuff. He looked around, and Patrick took in the dumb, wondering expression on his spotted face. One big black spot circled his left eye. When he caught sight of Patrick, his mouth dropped open, releasing his long, loping tongue, and he began barreling toward him, then skidded and crashed nose-first into the wall beneath the cat.

_Did you seriously learn nothing from what happened to you exactly ten seconds ago?_

_What? I don't know what you mean. Whatever. Anyway, you're pretty and I can't wait to be your bud!_

_Well, thank you. That's.. kind of sweet, but..._

Brendon returned then, cutting off Patrick's lengthy explanation of why a hyperactive puppy and an old, lazy, cantankerous cat were not necessarily meant to be the best of friends, why you can't just love someone you don't even know, why the mere thought of this creature invading his home was quite odious to him, actually. The human scooped the puppy into his arms and set the two animals eye to eye with each other.

“Patrick? This is Pete. He's gonna be our new buddy and hang out with us from now on.”

_Great._

_INORITE?_

Patrick gave an exasperated sigh and curled up into himself. _Yeah. Just great._


	3. Chapter 3

As Patrick had just shut his eyes, he heard a wet sound and then Brendon cursing, “Ah, shit!” He opened his eyes to see Pete, short ears twitching as he looked down at the pee that was dripping off himself and the human hands cradling him, and onto the doggie mat (thankfully not the hardwood floors—Patrick had heard more than enough lectures about not ruining that).

_ Oh no I'm so sorry I said I wasn't gonna be able to hold it I tried to tell you well kinda I just got really excited and a lot's happening and... _

“OK, well... we're gonna have our work cut out for us, huh?” He said, kissing Pete's head and taking him away to clean up.

 _That's it??? That's all he gets for peeing out of turn?_ The cat harrumphed and flicked his tail indignantly. _I got locked in the pantry with my litterbox and food bowls every night until I figured out what's what._

Brendon came back with Pete wrapped in a fluffy towel and sprayed down the doggy mat with his free hand. “No more peeing in the house, OK? We're gonna break you of that post-hastey, my friend.” Then, they went and sat on the couch together, Pete panting happily with his tongue hanging out as they watched TV together.

“We need a song, Petey boy. Oh, I know, I got an easy one!” He began to croon.

 _“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood_  
_You sure are lookin' good_  
_You're everythin' that a Big Bad Wolf could want_  
_Owooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”_

Brendon howled, and did it again, until Pete joined him. Patrick watched the two dolts on the couch making idiotic dog sounds together, and curled back into himself. After, oh, about a minute or so of this, Patrick became so entirely fed up, he went upstairs to the music room to relax.

The room was blissfully quiet, free of inane howling of human and canine, and Patrick finally felt like he could breathe. He hopped up to the piano bench, and thought of all the times he would lounge on top of it while Brendon practiced, or banged out some classics. With a sigh, he looked at the keys and remembered what happened when Brendon would touch them. He lifted a paw and hit one, and there was a pleasant tone. He hit it again, and the same thing happened. Intrigued, he picked a different one, and bopped it, only to produce a different sound. Wanting more, he hopped up onto the blacks and whites with all fours, walking up and down the row and marveling at the cacophony. It didn't sound like when Brendon played, but he was making sounds. He sat, bringing a jarring _bruuummmmm_ of notes, and then pawed carefully at a few of the keys on front  
of him. He ended up in a pattern, a white one, then a black one, white, black, white, black.

Brendon appeared in the doorway with Pete in tow, panting noisily.

 _Whoa that's cool how'd you do that you must be extra special smart ooh what's this can I play with this one?_ Patrick just caught Pete's rambling string of ideas as the puppy scampered right up to Brendon's bass and promptly knocked it over into the drum kit with a clashing clang of strings and cymbals. _Is it supposed to do that? Did I do it right?_

 _No,_ Patrick thought flatly.

Pete looked up at Patrick with a whimper. _I'm sorry._

“That's OK, Petey boy,” Brendon said in a groan as he bent down and scooped the puppy up and kissed his head. “Nothing broken.” He put Pete down and set the bass and cymbals right again, then sat on the piano bench. “Hey, 'Trick, you might be onto something.” He sat down and moved the cat off the keys. He plinked the two notes Patrick had been hitting, then expanded it into a chord progression. “Yeah, I like this.” He began singing.

 _“This is gospel for the fallen ones_  
_Locked away in permanent slumber_  
_Assembling their philosophies_  
_From pieces of broken memories_  
_Ohohohohohohohhhhh”_

_ Oh my gosh you did that I wanna do that how do I do that too that's so amazing you're amazing and really pretty did I tell you that already? You're so COOL! I totally wanna be your friend. _

Patrick lowered his head a little. _I didn't do anything, kid. I was just messing around. Brendon made it into something nice. You gotta calm down a little._

 _How can I be calm when I'm literally in the coolest house ever with the coolest human ever and the coolest cat ever? I LOVE YOU!_ With that, Pete leapt at Patrick, scaring the cat out of the room and sending Pete crashing into the piano bench with a yelp.

Brendon stopped playing and looked down at the puppy. “Hey, you OK, little dude?” he asked gently as he picked up the whimpering creature. “Awwww,” he cooed as he kissed Pete's wet nose. “Come on, buddy, we'll get you feeling better.”

 _You hurt my nose!_ Pete whined.

Patrick turned his tail up and marched down the stairs beside them regally. _It's not my fault you're too excitable. You have to be more careful, Pete._

_ I was just trying to give you a hug. Why are you so mean? _

Meanwhile, Brendon got some ice from the freezer, wrapped it in a paper towel, and sat on the couch with Pete in his lap. He gently applied the ice to the bump, drawing a whine from the puppy, but eventually he relaxed into the soothing numbness.

Patrick sat on the floor and eyed this with a twitching tail and a petulant air. _I'm not... I'm not mean. You're just... too needy. You're such a baby. I never got ice on my bumps and bruises._

 _Maybe if you were nicer, you would,_ Pete retorted. _And by the way, I am a baby. So there._

 _I'll show you nice,_ Patrick snapped, and immediately hopped up next to Brendon. There was no room on his lap, what with it being full of wounded puppy, so he just nuzzled the side of the human's thigh, making low meowing noises.

“Oh-ho, look who suddenly wants attention,” Brendon said with a chuckle. He took a break from icing Pete's nose and patted Patrick's head, eliciting a loud purr. Patrick leaned into his palm, then rolled onto his belly and captured the hand petting him between his front paws, no claws. He kept purring to show his enthusiasm and rubbed his cheek on Brendon's wrist. “Well, look at you, little attention whore,” he observed. “Never thought I'd see the day you'd be jealous.”

Patrick could have sworn he'd heard Pete laugh. _You obnoxious little shit._

_ I heard that. I was gonna be nice to you and be your friend, but maybe now I won't. _

The cat was careful to wait a moment before disengaging from Brendon as casually as possible and making his way to his perch. _First of all, you can't not be nice. You're a dog. It's what you do. Second of all, if not being in my way is the best threat you have, you'll have to do better. I've been just fine all this time with only Brendon, and I imagine I'll still be fine with just him._

He curled into a ball and tried to shut out those words: _Jealous. Attention whore. Mean. Mean. **Mean.**_

It took a while to calm down enough to fall asleep, but eventually, he did.


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick was awoken from his nap by growling and soft thumping of something against the floor. He lifted his head and slowly blinked his eyes open to see Pete playing. The puppy was a flurry of black and white, chewing and flinging a thick, braided rope, swinging his head back and forth as though he were really rending some wild prey apart and not basically dancing in his human's living room.

The cat watched him for a while, and laughed to himself. Pete did not seem to notice one iota.

_He seems so content. I think I had toys at one point. Where did they go? There might be one under the sofa..._

Patrick hopped to the floor, nimbly avoiding the puppy's flailing head and paws, and went over to the carpeted portion of the room to peer under the sofa. Sure enough, one of his old catnip toys was sitting underneath with tattered little feathers fanned out behind it, one eye on him like a taunt. He crouched extra low and stretched a paw underneath, patting and swatting furiously as he tried to get the toy and pull it to him. It was just out of his reach, though.

 _Shoot._ He inched as close as he could, shoulder pressed against the furniture, paw blindly batting until his claw snagged on the carpet. _Oh, no..._ he loosed a low moan as he tugged gently, unable to free his claw from the threads. _Come on, please... ouch..._

_ Patrick! Are you alright? Do you need help? _

_I'm fine._ He tugged harder, and felt a painful pull and snap as his paw finally released and he was sent rolling backward without his toy. _OW! Holy smokes that hurt!_

Pete laughed, and Patrick glared at him. The puppy immediately bowed and looked mournfully at the cat. _I'm sorry. Are you OK?_

The cat inspected his paw, then licked it experimentally. The claw was pulled and sore, tender to the touch. He hissed, and Pete immediately hopped back a little, skidding on the hardwood. Patrick put weight on it, and found he could stand.

_It appears I'll live._

_ Did you lose something? Maybe I can help you get it,_ Pete offered.

 _I don't think so. My... I have a thing I lost under the sofa. I can't reach it._ Patrick sat upright, tail twitching in annoyance. _Brendon will have to get it when he comes home._

_That could be forever! It's already been, like, a billion hours I bet. Don't you miss him? I miss him._

_Pete, you're rambling again. Just... play with your rope._

The puppy whined. _But... I'd rather help you. Lemme try._

_The feline gave a heavy sigh. OK, but I told you._

_Told me what?_ Pete cocked his head questioningly.

_You can't help but be nice. It's part of your canine heritage._

_My what? Whatever. Just lemme see!_ He ran at the couch, but stopped short when he hit the carpet.

 _Nicely done,_ Patrick complimented him.

 _Don't wanna hurt my nose more ,_ Pete grumbled.

Patrick laughed and flicked his tail. _Hmmm, apparently you can be taught. Well, anyway, I wish you luck, but it's under there._ He crouched down and looked under from the front of the sofa.

The puppy looked under from the side and said, _Hey, it's close to me. Look!_ With a couple of swats of his paw, he had the toy out and in his mouth. He promptly spat it at Patrick. _Yuk. That tastes weird, What's in it? Is it food? Does it taste good to you? Your food tastes weird, too. I'm glad I get my own._

 _You ate my food?!_ Patrick asked angrily.

Pete cowed again. _I just tasted it. I just wondered. I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me, please? I just got here. I don't want to go back. Please?_

_Dude, calm down. I'm... I'm not mad. Not really. It's just... strange having someone new in my home. Brendon's been my human a long time, and I'm just not used to sharing._

Patrick stared at the toy, still out of his reach. Honestly, he hadn't even wanted to play with it. He hadn't played with his old catnip toys in so long. He just... wanted it. He wanted a reminder that one time, he was fun. Brendon bought him toys and they had fun together. He looked at Pete, who was still watching him intently.

_Thank you._

Pete perked up and his mouth fell open, letting his tongue hang out as he began panting happily. _You're welcome. You still didn't tell me what's in there, you know._

 _Catnip. It smells good, but I don't really eat it. I just... chase it._ He crouched down and lifted his backside up, wiggling it up good and tight. _It's like hunting, except not. It's not dangerous and I don't kill or eat it. I just get to catch it. It was fun when I was younger._ He eyed the little catnip toy, and thought about all the hours he'd spent with it back then. Suddenly, he sprang across the carpet onto the toy and claimed it in his paws. Unfortunately, he let his claws slide out, and the one he'd hurt earlier started paining him. He loosed a mewl of discomfort and picked his paw up off the floor, licking it gingerly.

Pete took a step toward the cat. _Patrick!! Are you OK? Please tell me you're OK! Can I fix it? Do you want me to lick it for you? Maybe you should rub it in some dirt? I know rubbing my paws in the dirt makes them feel all nice and cool, especially when it's real hot. Are you sure I can't lick it?_

_Calm down, Pete! I'm OK. It just needs time. It's going to bother me for a while, but it will get better. I just have to be careful with it until it heals._

The puppy backed up again, and lowered his head a little. _I know how to heel. I can help._

Patrick gave a heavy sigh. _Not that kind of 'heel'. But thank you. It's very kind of you._ He made his way up to his perch, very carefully, and curled into a ball.

Pete pawed absently at his chewing rope. _I still think we're gonna be friends,_ he said a bit petulantly.

For his part, the cat just looked out the window and watched the sun set.


	5. Chapter 5

At night, the house was peaceful while Brendon slept, and Patrick often enjoyed being awake and roaming the house, exploring and just relishing the quiet. This time, though, his usual route to the floor was blocked by a dog mat, and said dog lain out on his side and fast asleep. Once in a while, he would make a high-pitched, whistling noise, and one or two of his feet would twitch. Patrick watched him curiously, and most decidedly not because he was in any way cute or endearing.

He hopped down the other way, lowing at the pain in his paw, then walked to the kitchen for some water. On the way, he bumped into Pete's bowls, since he obviously wasn't used to them being there. The noise made Pete stir, and Patrick closed his green eyes and sighed as Pete's voice flooded his head.

_I heard something. Something is here. There's definitely something. I heard it. I should wake up Brendon so he can come see the thing._

_No, you shouldn't bark, Pete._

_Who's there? How do you know my name? Are you a friend? A friend here to see Brendon? He should wake up and come down here. There's stuff happening and he's missing it!_

_No, Pete..._

Before Patrick could identify himself, Pete was barking and yipping loudly and running up thestairs. Patrick sighed again. _He doesn't even remember he lives with a cat now?_

_ BRENDON! BRENDON! COME DOWN HERE AND SEE THE THING! THERE'S A THING AND NOISES AND STUFF TO SEE AND HEAR! COME DOWNSTAIRS! _

_Pete, stop!_ Patrick called from the bottom of the stairs, but Pete was already outside Brendon's bedroom, sniffing at the gap near the floor, barking, and whining.

After a minute or two of this, the human grumbled, “Alright, alright!” There were shuffling footsteps, and then Brendon opened the door to find Pete prancing back and forth, making all sorts of noise. The puppy made for the steps, then turned to make sure the human followed, which he did. They came downstairs, and Brendon flipped on the lights to see Pete's food bowl slightly shifted to the left, and Patrick sitting beside it patiently.

“Aww, Pete, you woke me up to show me Patrick bumped your bowl? That's it? Little dude, you're gonna have to mellow out a bit. I need my beauty sleep.” He yawned and turned to head upstairs, then said, “Do you need to go to the bathroom? I suppose as long as I'm up, we should try.” He went through the kitchen to the back door, then opened it a crack. The night was warm and pleasant, and Brendon stood in the doorway, absently scratching his belly. Patrick came and sat next to the human's bare feet, watching Pete scamper about in the grass.

The yard backed up onto a sizable expanse of woods, which offered peace and privacy from other humans, but also was home to the usual woodland fauna, which kept Patrick strictly an indoor cat. He knew better than to tangle with what was out there.

_ There are so many cool things out here. All the grass under my feet is so soft and I wanna smell it all. And, ooh, there's a thing sticking up over there, and— _

_That's a dandelion. It's not that interesting,_ Patrick noted flatly. _Just pee or whatever you need to do. We can't stand here all night._

 _Oh, you guys can go. I'm fine out here. There's so much stuff to check out! There's a dirt patch over this way, and I think I see a stick over there. Chewing on sticks is great. Really, guys. Everything smells so good out here. I don't think I ever wanna—what's what?_ The puppy lifted his head, ears perked up as he looked around wildly.

 _What's what?_ Patrick asked. _All I hear is an owl. Or maybe a coyote._

_WHAT'S AN OWL AND A COYOTE? I WANNA SEE THEM! I WANNA GO!_

_You can't, Pete. Just pee and come back inside, please?_

The sound came again, and just as Patrick was able to differentiate that it was probably a coyote or a bigger dog, Pete was off like a shot.

“PETE!” Brendon cried. “Pete, come back!”

 _PETE!_ Patrick cried. _What the hell are you doing? Come back here!_

_ Can't. Can't stop. Hear the other dog. Wanna play with him. He's gonna be nice to me and love me because we're both dogs. _

_No, Pete, it's not that kind of dog. Come back here!_ Patrick took off after him while Brendon was putting on his shoes.

“Patrick!” Brendon called. “PATRICK!”

But Patrick was gone, trying to follow the scent of an excited puppy who was running straight into being some other creature's punching bag... or meal.

_Pete! PETE! Where are you? Turn around and come home this instant!_

But there was no answer, not even the rambling, incoherent tumble of excited puppy prattle. Just darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick ran into the woods as fast as his legs would carry him, nose low, trying to follow Pete's scent.

 _Pete! PETE!_ he called. He soon tired, and stopped to catch his breath. _PETE! Answer me!_ The dark only answered with crickets, buzzing of bugs, and an owl. _Great. Just great. Maybe it'll pick me up and carry me off to my doom. Shows what you get for being nice_.

 _ **Excuse me, but I don't eat cats,**_ came a reply.

 _What? Who's there?_ Patrick asked, darting his head in all directions. _Who are you?_

 _ **I'm the owl you just insulted. You can call me Bill.**_ Patrick finally spotted the elegant, brownish bird perched on a branch above him.

 _You have a human name? Are you domesticated?_ Patrick asked as he sat on the ground and curled his tail protectively around himself.

The owl, “Bill”, fluffed its feathers regally and looked down on Patrick with a special blend of annoyance and disdain. _**Of course not. A human couple passes me by on occasion, and they gave me the name. Probably thought it was so punny because I'm a bird.**_ He twisted his neck back and forth. _**Anyway, like I said, I don't eat cats. You've nothing to fear from me.**_

 _Yeah, except that your hooting draws bigger animals that probably would eat a cat if they can't reach you._ Patrick swished his tail as he looked about anxiously.

Bill laughed, a throaty, cooing sound. _**You don't get out of the house much, do you?**_

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ Patrick challenged, turning to glare at the owl.

 _ **Don't bother blustering at me. I can tell you're scared out of your wits. And not just for your own safety, either. You're worried about your friend. Pete. I heard you calling him.**_ When Patrick bristled, Bill laughed again. _**Don't worry, cat. I won't eat him either.**_ He swiveled his head off to his right and fluffed the right wing. _**He went that way.**_

 _Thanks,_ Patrick said sheepishly as he went on in that direction. After a few seconds, he paused and turned back over his shoulder. _I'm Patrick, by the way. And I'm sorry for insulting you._

_**Go find your friend.** _

_I'm not sure he is my friend right now._ The cat hung his head. _He... he kinda commandeered my human, and... I wasn't very nice to him. He thinks there's another dog out there and they'll be his friend._

_**Well, standing around here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to bring him home. Go on, Patrick. If he's following what I heard, that's something that will make a meal out of him. Hurry.** _

Having regained some strength, Patrick took off in a run again.

 _PETE! PETE!_ He loosed a long _meeooooooooooooooooooooooowwww_ into the dark. _PETE! Answer me, you stubborn twit!_

Just as he caught the sound of low growling off to his left, he heard a whimper from behind him.

_ Calling me names isn't nice. You're not nice. _

Patrick whirled around to find the puppy cowering under a low bush. _Pete! Thank goodness you're alright! How could you just take off alone at night like that? We have to get home. Brendon is worried sick! He's probably out looking for us right now!_

 _No! You don't like me. You don't even want me. All you say is how everything I do is wrong and I bug you all the time._ He backed up a little and put his head down on his paws. _You hate me. There's another dog out here, and I bet he'll like me._

_I don't hate you, Pete. I'm—_

Patrick was cut short as there was a sound of twigs snapping behind them and the growling grew louder. He turned his back to Pete and found himself nose to nose with a sizable coyote.

_Ho-lee smokes._

Pete immediately perked up and moved forward, beside Patrick. He gave a couple of perfunctory barks. _Hi! I'm Pete! Wanna be friends? Do you like chewing sticks? I had some good rope for that, but I left it at the house._

The coyote growled louder. _**I don't chew sticks. I chew bones.**_

 _Me too!_ Pete said, yipping excitedly. _Do you have any? We could share!_

The coyote sniffed the puppy and the cat. _**You and your friend do. I'll just have yours. You won't even miss them.**_

Pete looked at Patrick, then back at the coyote. _No, we don't. We left all our toys back at the house. If I did, I'd let you share mine._

The coyote laughed, and it was an awful noise that made Patrick's skin crawl. _**Kid, you're not getting the picture, here. I'm not here to play. I'm here to feed.**_

Patrick was about to interject, but Pete ran right up to the coyote's face and sat pretty, panting. _Oh, great! I'm starved! Is there food around here? Where you hiding it?_

The cat had had enough. He batted Pete's face with his paw. _Pete, he means us. He's going to eat **US**._

The puppy looked up into the eyes of the bigger canine, and saw no friendship, no affection. Only coldness and hunger. He backed up with a whimper, cowering. _No! I thought we were friends! We're both dogs and we get along and we, like, we get each other! Why won't anyone be my friend?_

Pete was startled out of his terrified thoughts when he was knocked into a somersault by Patrick's body. He rolled onto his belly and opened his eyes to see the marmalade cat leap up into the coyote's face and land a scratch right on the leather of his nose. The bigger animal recoiled with a snarl. Patrick landed with his paws splayed out, standing firmly between Pete and the coyote. He hissed.

 _You're not eating him. He's just a sweet kid who didn't know any better. You wanna tangle with someone? Try this old man on for size._ He leapt again, claws out, only to be batted out of the air by the coyote's paw. He loosed a yowl and tumbled to the ground.

 _PATRICK!_ Pete got up and ran over to the cat, who was regaining his feet and shaking his head to try to clear it.

Unfortunately, his bad paw was now much worse. _Ow!_

 _Patrick! Are you OK? Please be OK! I'm sorry I got you hurt! Please be OK!!!_ The puppy stood between the coyote, now beginning to salivate, and the old cat.

 _Get out of here, Pete,_ Patrick said weakly. _Run._

_ NO! We're both going home, Patrick. You're a mean old cat, but I love you anyway. _

As the coyote advanced, the three animals were startled by another sound. The screech of an owl.

Patrick looked up and saw Bill come swooping down, screaming like the devil was after him, and land on the coyote's head. The beast growled and swept his head back and forth, swatting with his paws to try and free himself from the owl's claws. Bill shrieked with fury as he dug into the coyote's pelt.

 _ **GET OUT OF HERE! BOTH OF YOU!**_ he ordered them.

Pete nudged his nose under Patrick's chin. _Come on!_ They started back the way they came, with Pete trying to use Patrick's scent to retrace their steps. They were considerably slowed by Patrick's injury, but they never heard the coyote following them. After what felt like hours wandering in the dark, they finally heard a familiar voice.

“Pete! Patrick! Where are you guys? Please come back! Pete! Patrick!”

 _BRENDON!_ Pete called, barking and yipping excitedly. _BRENDON! We're here! Patrick's hurt! Please help him!! Brendon!_ He sat up on his hind legs, threw his head back, and howled for all he was worth.

“Pete?” Brendon said, following the sound. Patrick started making noise, too, meowing as loudly as he could. “Patrick?” The steps came closer until the human was shining a flashlight right on his pets, sitting in the clearing and calling him. “Pete! Patrick!” he cried out, gathering the dog and cat into his arms. “Oh, I was so worried about you guys! Are you OK?” Pete butted his nose against Patrick's paw with a whimper, and the cat curled it against himself with a low whine. “Aw, you hurt your paw, little buddy? I'll call the vet tomorrow. We'll get you all fixed up.” He carried Patrick back, while Pete trotted along beside him, making happy little yips as he went.

They got back to the house, and Pete immediately ran for his water bowl. He drank for a good, full minute before he pulled back and lapped his wet muzzle. Brendon went to the freezer and got some ice cubes, then wrapped them in a towel. He applied it to Patrick's paw, who initially hissed a little, but soon calmed down when the pain receded. He began to purr and nuzzle against the side of Brendon's face. “Aw, don't worry, 'Tricky. I've got you. You're always gonna be my buddy.”

 _I love you, Brendon,_ Patrick said, wishing the human could hear him. _Thank you... for everything._

He put the cat gingerly on the ground after a few minutes, and Patrick limped his way over to the beds.

“I gotta get some shut-eye, little dudes. You guys be good until later, OK?” He petted each of them behind the ears, and then went upstairs to his room and closed the door.

Patrick looked up, and tried to crouch so he could jump, but it hurt too much. He made a mewling sound and sat on the hardwood, tail twitching in annoyance.

Pete got onto his mat, off to one side. _You... could share, if you can't get up there,_ he offered.

The cat tilted his head and watched the puppy half-crouching, not really lying down, looking expectantly at him. There was some remnant of fear in his eyes. _You're still pretty spooked, huh?_ Pete whined, but said nothing. Patrick gave a great sigh, then joined Pete on his mat. _I told you. Dogs can't help but be nice,_ he said, with no real venom in it. _Thank you for sharing with me._

As soon as he made himself comfortable on his side, Pete immediately curled up into a ball against Patrick's belly.

 _You're nice, too, Patrick,_ Pete said as he yawned. _You stood up to that mean old coyote for me, even though he was way bigger, and you were so brave, and now you're still being brave and looking out for me when I'm scared, and I know it's all because you're my friend._ He stretched his paws a little and snuggled even closer against the cat. _I love you, Patrick._

Patrick rested his bad paw over Pete's belly. Just to stop it from hurting, of course. _You're not so bad, Pete. I think I could get to like having you around._

Brendon came downstairs the next afternoon to find his cat and puppy snuggled up against each other, sound asleep. He tiptoed to the kitchen to make his coffee, but not before taking a picture and posting it to his Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram with the caption: _Best Friends._


End file.
